


90 Proof

by flammablehat



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Birthday, Drinking, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Rites of Passage, Team Gluttony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 15:42:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2234466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammablehat/pseuds/flammablehat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwen almost makes the unforgivable mistake of not celebrating her 21st birthday.  Fortunately, Gwaine comes to her rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	90 Proof

**Author's Note:**

> Written for another bonus challenge during last year's pthon (I'm fairly sure, anyway!). I really like the idea of Gwen and Gwaine as bros.

She’d mentioned to her Classics TA that her twenty first birthday was approaching during one of their rambling, off topic conversations after class. And at some point she must have told him that her family all lived away in the country, too far for weekend visits. And with exams approaching and generally keeping studious, serious company, Gwen wasn’t expecting anything special from her official introduction to the drinking world. 

Until Gwaine asked what her plans were and she made the mistake of telling him the truth.

“ _Nothing_?” he said, more aghast even than the one and only time Gwen had to ask for an extension on her paper. 

“Uh,” Gwen said. “I may buy myself a cupcake?” 

“Will it be a ninety proof cupcake?” 

“Is that...even possible?”

“No, okay, that’s fine. Percy will understand,” he said, taking out his phone and punching out a quick and likely illegible text.

“He’ll understand?”

“Why I can’t see a movie with him tonight. You. Me. Alcohol. We’re hitting the town as soon as my next period gets out.” 

“Oh!” Gwen gaped. “Don’t cancel your plans, please, I’m sure I’ll do something with my friends back home over the break—”

Gwaine stopped her with a finger to her lips. “No. This is important. I take it very seriously. Meet me in the courtyard in about an hour and fifteen minutes.” 

“Gwaine, really—”

“SHHhhhh,” he said, drawing his fingers together like a closing mouth.

\---

He found her sitting on the fountain just over an hour later. “Alright, kid. Let’s ride,” he said, snatching the textbook from her hands and stashing it in his shoulder bag. 

Gwen had to take a hopping step to catch up to his longer stride, feeling awkward and young and extremely uncool. She didn’t really look forward to a night of being nurse-fed liquor and babysat through her lonely intoxication, but then she didn’t really know how to turn Gwaine down, either. It was nice to have something to do on her birthday, and the attention of someone so vibrant and fun when she felt so comparatively straight-laced and dull. It was better than spending the night feeling sorry for herself and reviewing for her midterms, anyway. She slowed when they approached a stretch of street that only sat a motorcycle, all hunter green with gold accents and round, retro lines. Gwaine swung his leg over and twisted to hand her his helmet. 

“Hop on.” He grinned, and this idea was looking more questionable by the minute. 

“I’ve never ridden,” she said, gingerly accepting the helmet and climbing into the small seat behind him. 

“A night of firsts!” He pat her head once she’d snapped the buckle under her chin. “Don’t fight my lean in the turns and we’ll be just fine.”

“What?” she said, but it was swallowed by the engine growling awake. He hooked his hands just beneath her knees, arranging her legs around him so her feet sat on the rests and not on the exhaust pipes. She wasn’t expecting the jolt as he pulled them into the street and grabbed the collar of his jacket to fight the sensation of being left behind. The look he gave her over his shoulder was sly. Gwen fought the impulse to apologize and simply held on as he threaded them into the flow of traffic.

\---

“You alright there?” Gwaine held his hand out to her elbow, eyeing her wobble. 

“I’m fine!” Gwen brushed him off. Her legs were only shaking a little bit. 

“You did well,” he said, holding the door to their first bar open for her. The interior was dim with only a few business-types enjoying a late lunch or an early dinner. “How’s your stomach?”

“Well enough,” she said. “Um, I don’t have a lot of money,” she started as he ushered her toward the bar, embarrassment burning across her face. His expression shifted to one of deep offense. 

“You don’t pay for alcohol on your twenty first birthday,” he said like he was being forced to explain that the Pope was, indeed, Catholic. “Barkeep!” he bellowed. 

A blonde woman emerged from the back, wiping her wet hands on her jeans. The look she gave Gwaine was unimpressed, which meant she’d either met him before or was not susceptible to the power of his magical hair. 

“What can I do you for?” she said. 

“My going rate’s ten bucks, but for you I’ll take a pint.”

“Shut up,” she said, pointing at Gwaine but looking at Gwen. So she knew him, then. “Anything for you tonight, hon?”

“It’s my birthday?” Gwen lifted her shoulders.

“Her twenty-first,” Gwaine stage-whispered. 

The bartender’s eyebrows lifted. “You got ID?” 

“Oh, yes,” Gwen said, fishing through her wallet and pulling out her driver’s license and student ID for added verification. The bartender’s mouth firmed like she was hiding a smile and she glanced at the license. 

“Congratulations,” she said, pulling three bottles from behind the bar. “Take your pick: tequila, vodka, Jäger.” 

“Um,” Gwen said. She’d had wine before, and a sip of her dad’s Miller Lite, but none of her friends had bothered much with liquor since it was more expensive and harder to get ahold of without risk. 

“On your birthday you get a free shot,” the bartender said. “Do you have a preference?” 

Gwen looked to Gwaine. 

“Let’s do the vodka to start,” he said. “Two, please.” 

“You driving tonight, Gwaine?” 

“Yes, mother. Ow!” he said when she stamped the bottle down on his fingers. “Just the one! She can’t take her first shot alone!” 

“One,” the bartender said firmly, lining up three shot glasses and pouring them full. Gwaine snagged one and she took the other, leaving the third for Gwen, who picked the glass up and sniffed at it. It smelled sharp, with a faint sweet edge like the touch of decay in fruit. A tiny sip made her shudder, face tightening into a grimace. 

“You gotta take it all at once or you’ll never get it down,” Gwaine advised, demonstrating with a quick tip of his wrist. He set the glass down, expression otherwise unchanged. “Cheers,” he said. 

The bartender rolled her eyes and clinked her glass to Gwen’s. “Together,” she said, saluting before tossing it back just as easily as Gwaine had. Gwen tried to follow suit but the liquid hit the back of her throat like an oily splash of acid, burning and sour. She gagged, spraying a fine mist out between her pursed lips before she managed to slap a hand over her mouth, trying desperately to keep everything down. She heaved, and then again, eyes watering as she finally forced herself to swallow and could cough wetly without risking the bartop or the floor. Both Gwaine and the bartender rubbed at her shoulders, grinning with an odd kind of pride. 

“Well done, you! You’re official!” Gwaine said. Gwen offered them a damp smile. 

“So when does this get fun?” she said, voice a touch scratchy. Gwaine scrubbed at his stubble, glancing around. Apparently dissatisfied with what he saw, he dropped a few bills on the counter. 

“We may circle back around tonight. Always a pleasure, Isolde.” 

She nodded, collecting their glasses in one hand. “Happy birthday,” she said, giving Gwen a warm smile that, oddly enough, made her feel somewhat brave. “And good luck with this one.” Isolde jerked her head Gwaine-ward. 

“As the cool kids say, haters to the left.” He reslung his shoulder bag with a flip of his hair and waved them toward the door. “Onward, young knight. The bars are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep.” 

Gwen hopped off her stool and followed.

\---

It seemed a lot of bars maintained the free shot tradition. Gwen was shocked to discover there were things worse than straight vodka, Jägermeister being chief among them. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said, peeking out between her fingers while Leon (at their fifth stop) wiped up the remains of what would be her first and last foray into Jäger territory. 

“I’m not picking up anything solid.” He shrugged. “No harm, no foul.” 

“She gets another free shot then, right, since most of this one didn’t take?” Gwaine asked helpfully . Gwen hid her face in her hands. 

“Sorry,” Leon said. “Boss-man Uther would have my ass.” 

“Ah, worth a try,” Gwaine said, questing around the bar again. The evening was getting on and each place they visited had gotten progressively more populated. The Royal Oak Pub was a smaller venue with a young, boisterous crowd. Gwen was feeling a little swimmy, slouching a bit on her stool and oddly drawn to the fuzzy hair on Leon’s forearms. She jerked, almost tipping herself out of her seat when Gwaine stood on his chair and cupped his hands to his mouth.

“Attention!” he shouted. “Who wants to buy my friend here a drink for her twenty first birthday?” 

Gwen had a horrified second to grab at the leg of Gwaine’s jeans before a cheer went around the restaurant and several people raised their hands. 

“This’ll do nicely,” Gwaine grinned.

\---

A cosmopolitan, a manhattan, and two appletinis later, Gwaine was mostly supporting Gwen out of the bar and back onto his bike.

\---

She learned how to take body shots at their next stop — one off the belly of a sweetly accommodating man named Lancelot and the second from between their bartender Morgana’s magnificent breasts.

\---

Someone gave her a paper crown at bar number seven, or she might have snatched it from a table full of women enjoying a bachelorette party. She wasn’t clear on the details. The important part was the way it really added a certain gravitas to her calls for shots all around, let the peasants drink and be merry. 

At one point she stumbled into the lap of a pretty boy with blue eyes and so she kissed him, as was completely natural and correct to do in these situations. Though he seemed surprised to find himself with an armful of girl, he recovered admirably and helped her fix the sit of her crown before she noticed his boggling blond friend seated beside them. 

“Fair is fair,” Gwen said, putting her hands on his shoulders and nodding solemnly. Then she kissed him, too, and might’ve slid to the floor if he hadn’t caught her. 

It was at this moment that Gwaine came to their rescue and picked her up in a fireman’s hold, which was very thoughtful of him, as it let her blow them goodbye kisses as he carried her away.

\---

When Gwen woke up she immediately wished she hadn’t. 

“Oh my god,” she whimpered, after she managed to unstick her mouth from itself. She stayed very still until the tectonic movement in her skull steadied to a constant enough presence for her to pass out again.

\---

The second time she woke she realized three things in rapid succession: she didn’t know where she was, she didn’t know what time it was, and she wasn’t alone. 

“Jesus!” She scuttled back in bed at this last realization, when the dark form crouched in front of her resolved itself into a man-shape. 

“Shh, it’s okay!” Gwaine whispered. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I’m about to die from a combination heart attack and hangover.”

“Well, this is for the hangover,” he said, sliding a tall glass of water with a fizzing tablet onto the nightstand beside her. “And my apologies for the heart attack.” He was still whispering, probably in deference to the ringing in her ears. She was both appreciative and magnanimous, so she forgave him for the fright. 

“Where am I?” 

“My apartment,” he said, sheepish. “You passed out on me when we were driving back and it seemed cruel to try to wake you.”

“Yes, that is a cruelty better saved for the morning hours,” she said, wan. Even in the dimness of his room she could see him grin. “You didn’t have to give me your bed,” she added, recovered enough to feel the stirrings of mortification in her gut alongside the nausea. 

“Nonsense,” he said. “I don’t do anything by halves. This was about the full twenty one experience.” He stood, patting her hand. “Feel free to laze around for however long you need. When you’re ready we’ll go to the cafe for some grease and a little hair of the dog.” 

“Alright,” she said, taking a cautious sip of the fizzy water. It tasted like angels dancing through the swamp that was her mouth. 

In that moment Gwen realized that if it hadn’t been for Gwaine, who she hadn’t really known outside of class, she would have spent her birthday alone in her dorm and not thought much of it. Her twenty first, arbitrary as it was, would’ve passed without notice. Though the night previous had not been her wisest decision to date, for a number of compelling reasons, she could recognize that it had been the right one. And she felt glad for it. 

“Gwaine,” she said. He paused at the door, looking back. “Thank you.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [One Hell of a Girl (the 90 Proof Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3734974) by [clotpolesonly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/pseuds/clotpolesonly)




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